Page 121 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession
It’s ten the followingmorning when I arrive in Dublin, my heart in my throat and feeling tired and washed out. I couldn’t eat anything and was sick all through the flight.
With each passing second, I'm more convinced that what seemed like such a great idea yesterday is the worst decision I’ve ever made. I take a big gulp from the bottle of water they kindly offered on the flight.
Am I so hungry for a mother’s love that I’d take anything she’s willing to offer? Do I really want my mother back in my life? What if we never get along? Am I opening myself up to another source of pain?
For every question that blooms in my heart about this, I long for Ethan. He’s become such an integral part of me, it just feels wrong to make this sort of big decision without having a good discussion or argument about it.
I still haven’t heard from him. I check my messages again. They don’t seem to be delivering. He doesn't even know I’m in Dublin.
As soon as I clear security, the first place I go to is a pharmacy.
The pharmacist, a nice, older lady, takes my order for anti-nausea medication. “Had a long flight?” she asks.
“About seven hours. I just couldn't stop being sick.”
It’s strange; I’ve been on even longer flights and road trips, and I never get motion sickness. Plus, I’ve got a headache, and I feel a bit dizzy.
“Oh, ye poor thin’. Can ye tell me a wee bit about the symptoms ye’ve been havin’?”
I do, then she asks me a few more questions, which I answer. She grabs a few boxes off the shelf then she shows me the options, giving pros and cons for each. I’m feeling too tired to even follow the conversation, I just want the medicine. Then, she asks me a question that makes the fog in my brain evaporate instantly.
“Is there any chance ye could be pregnant, love? We want to be sure the medicine is safe for all circumstances.”
“I—hm.” I can’t say no and I feel a blush color my cheeks.
I’m not on birth control, but we use protection most of the time. Or he pulls out.
Not the first time, though. He’d come long and hard inside me. And I’ve not had a period since then. My periods are light, painless, and last only a couple of days, so they tend to slip in unnoticed. Still, it’s been…two months.
“Oh, shit. I don’t know.” I raise my anxious eyes to meet those of the nice pharmacist.
“In that case, I’ll recommend these ones.” She pushes a box of anti-nausea medication toward me, and then, she reaches for something behind her. “And these.”
They're pregnancy testing kits of two different brands.
“The extra is just in case ye need to confirm,” she clarifies.
Oh, God. We never talked about babies, but I don’t think he’s ready. He’s still trying to get his eyes sorted. And he’s just getting used to having clutter and mess around him.
I’m not ready, either. I should have gone to counseling. And I’ve been holding out on Vancouver, keeping my options open in case it doesn’t work out between Ethan and me.
Which reminds me, the job offer expires today.
If I’m pregnant, it’s a make-or-break between us. If he’s not ready for a baby, then I’ll just go to Vancouver and think about my options. And if he does—Oh, God, if he does—then I’ll stay.
I bring up the email from the Canadian team again and do some quick math. If I still want the job, I only have a few more hours to accept it.
I try Ethan’s number, and it fails to connect again.
It must be around 5 a.m. in New York. That’s way too early to call Jordan, so I send him a text asking if he’s heard from Ethan, then I leave the airport and head to Twiggy’s apartment.
The first thing Twiggy does is envelope me in a bear hug.
“Bonnie, yer so fucking strong. Ye inspire me, lass. I'm taken aback how ye upped and left everythin’ to come see yer mam.”
I take a deep breath. “Thanks, Twiggy. I needed to hear that because I’ve been telling myself I’m all kinds of a fool for even entertaining this.”
“No, Bonnie, it’s yer call and yer choice. Ye get to decide if ye forgive her or not. She’s yer mam.”